A Swindler's Secret
by Livestrong0009
Summary: Fresh out of Valenwood, a cocky Bosmer named Kyari is planning the greatest heist in Tamriel's history- clearing out all of Skyrim. But, as she is caught for the fist time with her hand in a Nord's pocket, her plans quickly change and rising in the ranks of the Thieves' Guild becomes her biggest priority.
1. Chapter 1

That's another city down! Damn, I'm good.

Thieving in Skyrim is a lot simpler than I imagined it would be. Gods know that the rest of the Bosmer in Valenwood don't look too kindly upon thieves. Gotta keep up with the upkeep of nature and the balance of life.

Piss on that.

I want to adventure. I want to steal across the world and make a name for myself. I want people to hear the name 'Kyari' and shudder, locking their doors and stowing away their treasures. I mean sure, I could work my way into the Dark Brotherhood, but murdering isn't for everyone. Wouldn't want to waste an arrow on some poor fishwife on the Riften docks. It's just not worth my time. But sneaking up to the fishwife and clearing out her pockets? Breaking into her ransack home and emptying her shelves simply because I _can?_ That's what I want. Power over the lesser people.

I reach into my knapsack and pull out my map of this Skyrim place. It's a lot larger than I originally expected. Cyrodil was bad enough, with the Empire and their damn politics. Who has the time for that? Hitching ride after ride on the backs of carriages until I made it to the borders of Skyrim, Falkreath was my first target. I cleaned that place out easily. Horrible town, really. Nothing but doom and gloom but it made for easy thieving. Despair makes people a little less wary of outsiders, I guess.

Whiterun was next, and it was exponentially harder. Guards everywhere, salesmen everywhere, children everywhere...Gods, there were _livestock_ everywhere! Chickens just...roaming the streets! It made for a challenge and I smile fondly in remembrance of each house I broke into, each pocket I picked and each guard I bribed. Funny how easily gold can change someone's mind. Money is power, or so I've heard. We'll see how it all pans out.

After Whiterun was Ivarstead. Another easy ransacking spot. Only two or three guards to the whole town, I took note. A few burly men who could have easily taken me out...but I'm too sneak for that. Wait for cover of nightfall, pick a few pockets, break a few locks and sweet talk in to some ridiculous sales. All it takes is the wink of an eye, a twirl of the hair and the bat of an eyelash. Easy.

And now, on the carriage ride to Riften, I inhale the cold, bitter, Skyrim air and smile. _This_ is what I have strived towards. The home of the Thieves' Guild. I can't wait to see what kind of rag-tag team finds its place here. I bet I could steal from all of them without a second look. If they really _are_ a decent guild, I'd bet they have treasure aplenty just waiting for my hands to wrap around it all. I stifle a laugh in the presence of the other passengers on the carriage and close my eyes for a bit, enjoying the voyage through the tundra.

* * *

An hour or so later, the terrain becomes less bumpy and I open my eyes. The sun is lower now, behind us as we make our way to the gates. I bite my lip to suppress a grin and my blood quickens in my veins. I cannot wait to see the city. Maybe I should make camp outside for the first night. Find a nice tree to climb and wait it out until morning. I'll need to rest up before my first heist, after all. I think on it, and change my mind. No, the inn should be suitable. A nice, warm bed and a belly full of wine helps anyone, thief or no. And a salmon steak sounds nice too. Maybe a sweet roll. I grin again as the carriage pulls off to the stables and people unload from the carriage.

I hang around, acting like I'm getting my things together. Once all of the other passengers are off and have paid their fee to the carriage driver, I slide up behind him, silent as a fox. He's counting out his coin, slipping it into his pocket. As he slips it in, I slip it out. It was only a 15 septim fee from Ivarstead to here, but every coin counts, right? 90 septims all together and I slip them into my purse, tying it tightly shut. I hope out of the carriage and begin towards the gate, but the carriage driver stops me.

"Oi there, elf, you didn't pay yet," he grumbles, holding out his hand to me.

I grin, turning around and adopting a perplexed expression. "I think you must be mistaken. I paid you back in Ivarstead. It was 15 septims. I left it in a pouch on your seat."

He cocks his head to one side. "You did? Ah damn..." he looks around, feeling under the seat for it.

"Oh bother, did someone manage to take it?" _That someone being myself..._ I hold back a snicker as he nods solemnly.

"Aye, I think they did. Damn it all..."

I reach for my purse and pout my lips at him. "I can pay you again, if that's what you want."

He looks at me for a moment, then runs a hand through his hair, his cheeks reddening. "No no, that's fine miss. I wouldn't want you to have to pay twice. That wouldn't be fair. It's only 15 septims. I'll manage." He nods once, affirming his words.

"If you're sure," I coo, tying the purse shut again. He nods and waves goodbye to me as I near the gates.

So, _so_ simple. Men are so predictable. _'Oh bother.' _ Pathetic, but so satisfying. I chuckle a bit as I open the gates to the city and stop as soon as I enter the streets. This place...is perfect. I smirk with delight as I look around the streets. Everyone looks so...downtrodden. Beaten down and depressed. Perfect! I should get through this city in less than a week, I think. I make my way into the square and take a moment to scan my surroundings. A few shops, a few back alleys, the Temple of Mara, the Jarl's place. And homes. So many homes both up here, and down on the water. This should be fun. Lots of places to hide, not that I'd need it. I've never been caught after all.

I look around the square now, sizing up the merchants and their stands. There's an armor stand, a jewelers, a vegetable cart over by the inn, and a few other stalls that don't look like they are worth my time. And then...one final stand with...potions? That's what it looks like. Six bottles of red liquid are lined up on the stand and a man in front with one bottle in his hand. A nord, most likely, with scarlet hair and a beard to match, Noble's clothing with a purse dangling from his hip. Hmm...my first target, perhaps?

I saunter around the merchants until I am on the outside of the square, watching people innocently as they flock towards the potion man. He gives some nonsense about a cure-all made from the blood of a troll and the venom of a hagraven or some other foolishness. These people believe that line? Oh, this city will be so simple to thieve...

One by one, they line up to purchase a bottle of this cure-all and I watch from the shadows, taking in the amount they are paying. 40, 50 septims a bottle? And seven people so far have bought one? Damn, this Nord is good. He is _definitely_ my first target. As the customers stop coming, I start crouching, start sidling my way over to the potion stand. A few yards away, the Nord turns his back to me and starts stowing away his goods for a later date. Foolish move, you ginger-haired bastard. I bite my lip and inch towards him, his coin purse right in my view. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I reach out to untie his purse...

His hand slams down on my wrist and he squeezes, freezing my movements. I gasp, and make to move away from him, to run. Who is this man? How in _Oblivion_ did he catch me? I...I've never been caught!

"Nice try, lass," he mutters, tossing my hand away from his purse.

What kind of accent is that? It's...unique. As is he. I stand, looking at him...staring, really. Why didn't he call the guards? Why didn't he try to knife me? What's going on?

"No, really. If you weren't so cocky when you came into town, you might've actually had me." He turns around and grins at me, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?" I bark. Asshole. Where does he get off?

He widens his eyes in mock offense and then quirks an eyebrow. "Me? Oh, I'm nobody, lass. _If_ you count the second in command of the Thieves' Guild as nobody, that is." He shrugs, then leans forward, narrowing his eyes at me. "And who are you?"

I puff out my chest and place my hands on my hips. "My name's Kyari. Bosmer fresh out of Valenwood." This guy thinks his title is impressive? Wait until he sees me in action. Or..._doesn't_ see me, I guess. I narrow my eyes right back at him and frown.

"Kyari. Aye well...you've got some skill, I'll give you that. What brings you to Skyrim then? To Riften?"

...What do I tell him? That I'm stealing my way across the province? That he was just another target? Just another pocket to pick?

I shrug nonchalantly. "Just passing through."

He laughs, a deep, dark kind of laugh that surprises me. The he looks at me and grins. "You expect me to believe that, when I've just caught your hand in my pocket? You take me for a fool, lass?"

I swallow. Damn. He's seen through everything I've done so far. He must be _good. _Maybe I underestimated the Thieves' Guild after all. I keep my expression even, determined not to give anything else away. I don't need to give him any more ammunition if he did decide to go to the guards.

"Well...let's take a look at you, then." He circles me, eyeing me over. Subconsciously, I tense. Is he checking me out? Once he starts to speak though, I think differently. "Well crafted leather armor, an ebony dagger on the hip and one in both boots, a beautiful, ebony bow on your back...and I'd say about 700 septims in your purse. That about right?"

My jaw drops. I have 734 septims...how did he know?

He chuckles. "I could hear the clink of it when you walked in the gates. Any thief worth his salt would be able to, lass." He comes full circle and leans against his stand, his posture relaxed. "A shoddy pickpocket though. That one's obvious."

I blink at him. "Excuse me?"

"You aren't as good as you think, Kyari." He chuckles, scratching the stubble on his chin. "Although...if you'd be willin' to hear out an offer, I'd be willin' to help you with that."

Now we're talking. I crack a smile and cross one leg over the other, hands in my pockets. "What did you have in mind?"

He runs his index finger over his bottom lip. "Ask me tomorrow. Go get some rest, and we'll see what we can work out," he comments before swiftly nodding, turning, and walking away.

What in the Gods name...? Who does he...? What is this? He's the second in command in the guild, he said. Catches me picking his pocket, though how he did escapes me, and doesn't call the guard. Blatantly looks me over and assesses my armor and weapons, offers me some work and when I take the bait, leaves without another thought?

This Nord is _smooth_. I give him an admiring look as he walks away, allowing my eyes to trace his body. Not bad for a human. I dust off my knees and head for the inn, eager to get some rest now that the sun is down. It smells of mead and smoke and I inhale deeply, welcoming the scents and sights of the Bee and Barb. What an odd name. I approach the owner and get a room key, heading straight to my room.

To my delight, there's a bottle of wine here. I crawl into a bed, taking a large swig of the bottle before kicking off my boots and setting the bottle to the side. I cross my arms behind my head and allow the sounds of the inn below to lull me to sleep.

_**((For anyone that's read **_**To Make A Thief, _I promise this will be different! New characters, new personalities and a spicy new storyline is cookin' in my brain! Stick around and see what's to come - I promise it'll be good!))_**


	2. Chapter 2

Light comes pouring in through the window opposite of my bed and I grumble, stuffing my head under the pillows. Is it morning already? Damn it, I haven't slept a wink. Again. I groan and haul myself out from underneath the bear skin blankets and find my boots, pulling them on. I don't bother to lace them yet. I reach for the side table and grasp the bottle of wine, taking a large, delicious gulp, allowing the sweet liquid to burn down my throat, helping me to focus. I sigh, making my way towards the door.

There aren't many people in here in the morning, I notice. The pair of Argonian owners are here, obviously, but there are only two others besides myself. An older man, Nord by the look of him, staring absently at the wood of his table with a downtrodden look, and another man by the door, clothed in mage robes with a staff beside him. He looks like a Breton. Mercenary, I'd wager. I make a mental note to check his pockets as I approach the front counter.

The female Argonian grins at me. Ugh. The Argonian race leaves a _lot_ to be desired. Nothing but lizard faces and forked tongues. Lanky bodies make for shoddy warriors and their heavy, reptilian breathing makes for poor thieving. And I don't think I've ever seen an Argonian mage in my life. What good are they other than shopkeepers and servents?

"What can I get for you? A sweet roll maybe? Or some fresh baked bread?" she rasps.

I manage a smile. "A sweet roll sounds wonderful," I reply, and gods do I mean it. The warm icing of a sweet roll is enough to make anyone's mouth water. I take a seat at a nearby table, folding my hands in front of me while I wait for my food.

She comes to my table a little later, placing a sweet roll and a cup of smelly liquid before me. I wrinkle my nose at it, looking up at her.

"What's in the cup?"

She smiles proudly. "A mixture of herbs and spices, brewed up into a tea. The finest recipe from Black March."

I wave it away. "Take it back. Bring me some spiced wine."

She pauses for moment, reaching slowly for the cup. "O-of course. Sorry." She scurries away with the tea in hand, bringing me back a goblet of spiced wine.

I shoo her away after that, needing to be alone with my thoughts. I take the first bite of my sweet roll and chase it down with some wine, wracking my brain for ideas. This is Riften, after all. Home of the Thieves' Guild. It won't be easy pickings with all that competition. I'll have to make my move fast and hard. Can't go out at night, that's when the half-ass thieves do their business. No, I'll have to strike in the daytime. This makes things difficult. I've only ever done two successful daytime heists, and the one almost landed me in a cell. I smirk to myself, curling my lips around my goblet. This is going to be fun.

* * *

The streets are bustling with morning business and I stretch into the sunlight, welcoming its warm embrace. I wander the streets for a while, familiarizing myself with every corner, back alley, building and street. If I'm going to clear out the city, I need to know what I'm dealing with. The Temple of Mara is promising, and I make a mental note to head there at night. The Nords wouldn't dare steal from a Temple. Too much fear in angering the gods. Only goddess I care about is Lady Dibella, and I don't see a Temple of hers anywhere here.

The next place I find myself is the Keep. Mistveil Keep, I believe it's called, and it's massive with beautiful stone carvings and a strong structure. It is something to behold, for sure. The guards eye me warily as I pass by, but they don't stop me. They don't have reason to: I haven't stolen anything. Yet.

Sweet slaughterfish, it's just as magnificent inside as it is outside. And there is _so _much here...so much to steal. I hold back a cackle as I make my way towards the Jarl's throne, which is in the back of the room. A tired looking woman sits there, pompous as Jarls are, drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair. A line stands before here with farmers, shopkeepers and a Khajit, eager to make a request of her. I take my place at the back of the line, waiting for my chance to speak.

I've found that it's easier to steal from a city that's trusting. Take up a few jobs, save a few lives and people are welcoming to you. They open their doors, their hearts...and their pockets. I've killed giants, wiped out bandits and struck down a bear or two in an attempt to gain a city's trust. There was even a pour lout down in Falkreath who's entire hunting party was wiped out by a cave of bears. I healed him, then wiped the bears out for the city. I came back and was greeted like a queen. I got three free nights at the inn, as much wine as I could drink and a hefty discount at the village store. Plus the hunter I saved gave me his dagger, passed down to him from four generations. I pawned it off in Whiterun with some tale that it could be traced back to Ysgramor or something like that. Nords. They love a good story.

"Miss? Miss! It's your turn to approach the Jarl," a woman calls to me.

I snap back to the present and the line before me is gone. I am before the Riften Jarl, who looks at me expectantly. I grin Time to put on a show.

I drop to my knee and bow before the woman, resting my hands on the floor. "My Jarl," I begin, clearing my throat so I can be heard well. "I am but a humble Bosmer, come to this city to start a new life. I am aware that your people, the mighty Nords, do not take kindly to elves of any race, but I beg you to hear me." I look up at her, trying to make my eyes shine. "I know that it is customary for newcomers to perform deeds to aid the peopl of a city in the hopes of being accepted, and I have come to offer my services." I straighten my posture and rest both hands on my knee. "Is there any task that you would wish me to perform?"

Damn, that sounded _good. _I keep my eyes locked with the Jarl, hoping to fool her into thinking I am sincere. My voice was strong and sure and I didn't falter with one word. She drums her fingers on her lips for a few moments, then softly smiles.

"Your passion does you credit, young elf," she calls, raising a hand and beckoning me closer.

Yes! I am so in. I rise to my feet and approach her with a humble attitude, keeping my face low and my eyes even.

"There is something you can do for this city, and for me. There is a group of bandits holed up in Cragslane Cavern that need taken care of. They have raided multiple shipments to and from the city, and murdered a band of guards that were on duty outside the city. From what reports have told me, there shouldn't be more than a dozen." She leans forward in her chair. "Will you do this service for me?"

I bow and sweep my hand to the side. "It would be an honor, my Jarl."

She nods. "You will be well rewarded. The caverns are to the north of here. Please take care of ruffians as soon as you are able." She then dismisses me and I move out of the line, letting the next person take their turn with the Jarl.

I rub my palms together. Cragslane Cavern it is. I make for the exit of Mistveil, but an hand hastily grasps my arm and pulls me back. I almost reach for a dagger, but remember where I am and keep myself calm. I am now face to face with a young Nord, clothed in furs and scaled armor. He crosses his arms as he eyes me over, and this time I am _certain_ I am being checked out. I cross my own arms in response and quirk an eyebrow at him.

"I am Harrold, son of the Jarl, and I heard that my mother has a task for you."

My posture immediately changes. Got to keep up the obediant charade. "Yes, sir. I am to clear-"

He waves his hand at me, cutting me off. "I don't care about that, churl." He clears his throat. "I have something you need to do for me before you go."

Who does this young buck think he is, calling me a churl? What a prick. I roll my eyes inwardly, but manage a soft smile. "Yes, sir. Anything you want."

He smiles. "I love it when the lesser are obediant." He sighs happily, pulling the sword from his hip and handing it to me. "Take this down to the smithy and have him repair it for me. It shouldn't be more than 100 septims, so you should be able to pay for it as well."

I look at the sword and my mouth falls slightly agape. What in Oblivion did he _do_ to it? It's got chips in the sides, is bent almost beyond recognition and it looks more blunt than a butter knife! What was he doing, slashing at a wall? Idiot boy.

He claps his hand in my face. "Do it quickly, now! I don't like to be kept waiting. To the smithy, and right back."

I ball up one fist behind my back, but take the sword with the other. "Right away," I hiss through my teeth before turning and exiting the keep.

_I hate authority figures_. I descend the stairs from the keep and notice that the smithy is right outside of the wall surrounding Mistveil. ...Seriously?! He couldn't just take the blade himself? I groan, frustrated, but head towards the smith anyway, blunted sword in tow. The man is hard at work and I almost feel back bothering him, but clear my throat to announce my presence anyway.

He turns to me, sweat dripping from his dark tresses and smiles. "Milady. What can I do for you?"

I can't help but crack a smile. Nords usually hate my people, but on the rare occasion I do find one that is kind. It warms my heart and I present the sword to him, wincing again at its battered appearence. He takes one look at it and wrinkles his nose.

"Harrold's blade, eh?" he looks at me, taking the sword as I manage a slow nod. He grunts. "Idiot boy."

I chuckle as his words mimic my own thinking and circle behind him as he heats the blade in the forge. I watch him work and allow him to get comfortable before I start circling around, eyeing up his merchandise. Those daggers should sell well, and I notice a pile of silver ore off to the side as well. I take another look at the blacksmith, then slip four daggers and the pile of ore into my pockets. Before he turns and catches me, I lean casually against the workbench, watching him work.

Another few minutes, and the sword is as good as new. It shines in the sunlight and he hands it back to me, smacking his hands together. I take it and reach for my purse, adopting a sad, sultry expression.

"How much do I owe you for the repair?" I murmur, looking at my purse as if it were nearly empty.

He inspects me for what feels like an eternity, then smiles sadly and holds up a hand. "Nothing, lady. That boy isn't worth the gold from your pocket. Just tell him ol' Balimund said to be more careful with his weapons."

I grin. "You are kind, Balimund. I'll tell him. Thank you."

_Men...so predictable_.

I turn on my heel and head back towards the keep, sword in hand and laugh to myself. These daggers and ore should sell for at least a hundred septims. We'll see what I can squeeze out of Harrold once I deliver his sword. I re-enter the keep and he stands expectantly, tapping his foot as if I'd been gone for decades. He grunts at me.

"What _took_ you so long?!" he shrieks, snatching his sword away and slamming it into his sheath. He turns his back on me and heads towards the Jarl, looking as though he were about to complain about me.

The Jarl turns to him and silences him before he can even speak. She then beckons me over and I approach warily, my steps measured.

"Harrold had you repair his sword, did he?" she asks, her tone disapproving.

"I took it down to the smithy, yes."

She nods. "And..._how _much were the repairs?"

"150 septims, my Jarl," I reply, thinking quick on my feet.

She turns to her son. "And you _were_ planning on compensating this woman, weren't you son?"

He turns to me, his face twisted and annoyed. "Of course...mother."

He reaches to his hip and pulls out a hefty purse, plopping it into my hand. "200 septims, for services rendered."

I smile, nodding my head low to him and turn, leaving Mistveil Keep.

I am beginning to like this city.


	3. Chapter 3

_Cragslane Cavern. What a piss-hole. _

Nothing but skeever droppings and rotting corpses. How can anyone live in a dump like this? The walls are caving in and the stench is almost unbearable. There have been three caved-in walls that I've seen so far and there are bound to be more farther in. I've already killed six skeevers and I've only been in here for a few minutes. No bandits yet. I did hear a wolf howl once. That should be interesting. Wolves are a lot tougher to sneak up on than people, what with their heightened senses and all. I creep along, silent as I can.

Torch light illuminates the next open room that comes into view, and I crouch a bit lower, drawing the bow from my back and readying an arrow. I hear hushed voices and I can smell mead on the air. There are...three of them, I think. As I move towards the light, I remove each lit torch I pass and smother them out in the dirt. The darker the better. There is a small, wooden balcony connecting to a ramp that leads down into the open room where the bandits are currently. Across the room, there is another passage behind...a fighting ring? There is a circle encased in wooden pallets with a cage that leads further into the cavern. I see a dead wolf in the circle, surrounded by blood. Two of the three bandits are huddled over the pit with coin purses in their hand. The third is behind the bar and he rings a bell. I slide into the corner, watching the scene.

Two more wolves enter the ring from the cage and take position at opposite ends. Then, one bandit snaps his fingers and the wolves lunge at eachother, attacking to kill. I see the ferocity in their eyes, the determination of their movements and the intent in their attacks. They have been trained to fight. Is this legal in Skyrim? Dog fighting? The Tribal Council in Valenwood would have their heads for this. Then again, bandits don't much care for breaking the law, do they?

One dog rips into the others neck and severs its artery, killing it. The bandits around the ring whoop and holler, overjoyed that the dog they bet on won the fight. My stomach turns. Just gives me another reason to kill them. _As if the gold wasn't enough._

They approach the bar, plopping their purses down and taking a seat. The bandit bartender gives them both a small vial of some type of liquid, which they eagerly open, draining the contents down their throats. This presents the perfect opportunity. My posture straightens and I raise my bow to the level of my shoulder, straightening my left arm and pulling the shot back slowly. The bow tenses in a delicious manner, whining as it is bent to position. I smile, aiming for the bartender first. I line up the shot, hold my breath for just a moment, close my left eye and release...hitting the man square in the chest. He pauses for a moment, gasping, then sinks to the ground. I release my breath and move, taking position in the other corner.

"What was that?" one bandit mutters, drawing his blade immediately.

I look at him and he looks groggy, his steps random and unmeasured. His sword hand wobbles as he circles the room, looking for me. I smirk again, lining up a shot on him. I close my left eye and release...the arrow lands in his shoulder. He cries out in pain and drops the sword, soon falling to his knees. I jump up from my hiding position and stay to the shadows, vaulting over the wooden balcony and landing behind him. I pull the dagger from my boot and slide it across his throat. He gurgles, his eyes wide with terror and I turn, leaving him there to die. Why should I care about a bandit?

The last one stands by the bar, his eyes scanning the room. He's got two steel daggers, one in each hand, and looks significantly more lucid than the last. He searches for me but I am positioned behind one of the wooden beams that supports the roof: he cannot see me. I wait for him to move, listen for footsteps or heightened breath, but hear nothing. He is either too afraid to move, or is waiting for me to shift and make some sort of noise. Too bad for him. I'm a Bosmer. We don't _make_ noise.

"You can't hide from me!" he calls out, scanning the room again.

_Actually, I can._ My eyes fall on the pit dog then, and I realize that he is staring directly at me. His teeth are bared and he looks absolutely deranged but, as our eyes connect, something softens in him. I approach him slowly, keeping out of sight from the bandit at the bar, and sheath my dagger. This creature is pained, I see. I scan his lithe, beautiful body and see nicks and scars all over him and a deep, bleeding wound in his side. He won't survive much longer. Not like this. The creature growls at me, warning me away but I do not falter. I do not move.

I reach my hand into the cage and smooth it over his face and he immediately calms, bowing his head into my touch. I can sense longing in him. Desire for...for what? Affection? Care? Yes...that's it. Care. A yearning to be touched, like this. To be looked after rather than used for a fight. I scratch him behind the ear and his tongue wags as he relaxes and allows his eyes to close.

My people have always had an affinity for animals. We have seen them as companions and partners rather than tools to be used. This bond has allowed us to develop a way to communicate with them through expression. They read our body language and facial forms and are able to decipher what our wishes are through that. And, if the creature trusts and respects us enough, they carry out that wish. This wolf, I am hoping, will be no different.

I lean forward a bit more and take his muzzle in both of my hands, stroking my thumb down his long, scarred nose. His eyes open and he looks at me calmly.

_What would you have of me?_

I smile sadly. _I wouldn't wish this upon you, little one. It is not right._

_ These humans are savages. They have no perception of what is right._

I scratch him behind the ear again. _Help me kill this last one, and I will do what I can to aid you. To heal you._

He licks his chops and his eyes darken. _You will not beat me...?_

The uncertainty in his gaze makes my heart ache. _No, I will not. You have my word._

He looks to the bandit, then back to me. A determination flashes in his gaze that makes me grin. ..._Unlatch the gate._

I nod once, giving him one last affectionate pat on the nose before moving slowly, deftly up the cage, climbing its linked wall. Once on top, I move on my stomach towards the gate and lift, quietly as I can, opening the cage just enough to get the wolf's body through. He wastes no time sprinting through the door and lunging full force towards the final bandit, his teeth and claws tearing into the man's flesh without the slightest hesitation. His teeth sink into the man's neck and tear it open before he drops back onto all four paws, padding over to where I am. I grin at him and drop back to the ground, giving the beast an appreciative back scratch.

He falls then, to his side and pants heavily and I see blood oozing from his side wound. My breath catches and I reach to my knapsack, searching for a bandage or cloth, anything that could stop the flow of crimson liquid from this beautiful creature.

He whines once. _You need not bother with that. What's done is done._

I shake my head. _No. I told you I'd heal you. That is what I intend to do._

Finding no bandage in my pack, I reach to the leg of my trousers and rip a long, thick strip off. I move toward the wolf and he whines again, this time pained and desperate. I move him to his feet the best I can and he stands strong, though his legs wobble. I pour a small amount of antiseptic onto the cloth and wrap it tightly around the beast's torso. He growls deeply, not with malice but with pain and I tie off the cloth, pulling the knot tightly. He looks at me and licks my palm, falling back onto his side.

I smooth my hand over his face. _Stay here. I will come back for you._

His blinks his eyes once. _Yes._

* * *

The rest of the bandits were easy to take out. They all seemed rather incapacitated and uncommonly clumsy. I stashed a few vials of that strange liquid away, hoping that they will have some value in Riften. And hopefully I can nurse that wolf back to health and release him. He has seen enough violence for a lifetime.

As I dislodge an arrow from the head of the Bandit Chief, and search his pockets. He's carrying 47 septims, a small polished amethyst, two healing poultices and four vials of that strange liquid. I stow away what I can and hurry back to the arena, eager to get back to the injured wolf. He lays there still, and I worry for a moment that he may have died. Upon my arrival though, his ears perk up expectantly and his tail wags a bit. I smile at him.

_...You returned._

I run my hand along his muzzle. _I promised you that I would._

_ What will happen to me now?_

The anguish in his voice pains me and I am struck suddenly that he is the last of his pack. The rest of the wolves lay dead in cages from either starvation, abuse, or pit fights. I feel my heart sink for the creature. He is alone. Completely...and utterly alone. My mouth sets into a hard line and I reach for him, scooping him up as gently as I can and holding him on my shoulders. Gods above, he is heavy...

He whines. _What are you doing?_

I start towards the entrance to the cave. _I'm taking you with me, little one._

He pants a bit and I pick up my pace a bit, taking longer strides. I will not let this creature die while I can do something to save it. I'll mend his wounds better once we're outside the city and away from this place. Perhaps I can requisition a priest to aid him. I'll do whatever it takes.

I look back at him and manage a small smile. "I will call you Neshoba."

He growls appreciatively, and licks the side of my face.

_**A softer side has been shown by Kyari as her Bosmer roots show themselves. The trek to the city will be long and hard. Will she make it back with Neshoba still alive? And what of Brynjolf and his offer? More to come!**_


	4. Chapter 4

I never thought we'd make it back. The trip took twice as long with Neshoba on my back, and I had to stop two or three times to re-bandage his wound. My trousers are ripped to shreds. I'll have to find a tailor or a leather worker to patch these up. Or...perhaps I'll recieve new armor from that man in the square. The second-in-command of the Thieves' Guild.

I grin, picking up my pace. Neshoba is asleep on my shoulders so I take the steps as softly as I can. My mind wanders. The Thieves' Guild...I am beginning to wonder about it. I have heard of other guilds, that's for sure. And all of them have been little more than a group of thugs who wear matching armor. They'll kill just as soon as they'll steal. That's not how thieving really works. You never kill a target if you can help it. Self defense is alright but...downright assassination? That's Dark Brotherhood business, not thieves'. I do hope that the Thieves' Guild goes by this code as well.

The gates of the city are in sight and I pick up the pace a little more, my steps now a light jog. Neshoba whines on my shoulders and I peek over my shoulder to check on him. He looks tired, his eyes glassy and his nose dry. I need to get him fixed up as soon as possible. About thirty yards away from the front gate though, a guard begins towards me, stopping me before I reach the city.

"Oy there, elf. You can't be bringing a wild wolf into the city."

I narrow my eyes at him. "He's not wild. And he's injured. Please, I need to get a Priestess of-"

"You'll get no one," he interrupts, holding up a hand. "No wolves in the city. You don't know when he'll strike. He's wild and he's dangerous. Put him down. Then you can come in."

I begin to protest, but Neshoba's whines tell me that it will be a futile effort. Arguing with this idiot isn't going to heal him any quicker. But how am I supposed to heal him myself? I'm no mage and my antiseptic is nearly gone. Maybe I can whip something up out of herbs and Spriggan sap but...I don't know how long he has.

"This one greets you, Bosmer."

A raspy, throaty voice greets me from behind and I turn around slowly, expecting some kind of attack. Instead, I see two, cat-like eyes staring at me, then to Neshoba.

"Uh...hello. Can I help you with something?"

The Khajit woman nods. "No, but this one thinks she can help you. Come, come to the tents. We have good remedies for wounds and poisons."

I look up at Neshoba and he licks his chops once. _It can't hurt_.

I nod, following the woman to the nearby Khajit camp, finding it entirely welcomming and homey. The woman ushers me into the center of the circle of tents, motioning for me to set Neshoba down on a nearby mat. I feel a sense of unease creep over my skin as three more Khajit emerge from their tents, two of them wearing a set of heavy, steel armor. I eye them cautiously as I lower Neshoba onto the mat. The woman who greeted me returns outside as well, accompanied by an older looking Khajit with white hair and a grey-furred face. He smiles warmly at me, a bottle in one hand and a cloth in the other.

"This one greets you," he rasps before turning to Neshoba.

I nod and take a seat next to him, my eyes constantly on the wolf. He looks up at me with frightened eyes and I smooth my hand over his muzzle, willing him to calm.

"We will not harm him. In fact, quite the opposite," the woman says. "We aim to heal and to protect."

I blink at her. "Why would you help me?"

Her gaze stays on the wolf. "We know what it is like to be outcasted."

With that, I fall silent. Yes...I'd imagine they would know. Khajit are rarely trusted and never allowed into major cities due to their reputation for smuggling and thievery. The thought makes me smirk to myself. The people don't know a good thief when they see one, apparently. Still...they welcommed Neshoba into their camp and are willing to sacrifice their supplies to tend to his wounds. I will have to give them something for their help.

"We will have to open the wound to begin the healing..." the elderly Khajit mutters, and the woman agrees.

Then, without warning, he pulls out a knife and re-opens Neshoba's side wound. The wolf howls in pain and snaps once at the man, but I force my hands around his muzzle and hold him down. His eyes flash once and he growls at me.

_You promised me you would not hurt me..._

I shake my head at him. _This is not punishment. This is to heal you._

The two Khajit pour a green liquid into the wound and Neshoba cries out in pain again, his feet kicking. I hold him down.

_You gave me your word..._

I look away from him, my hear aching for his pain. He doesn't understand that what they are doing is to mend his wound. After a few more minutes, he stills and I wonder if he is dead. I look to the female, who eyes Neshoba cautiously.

"He has passed out. From the pain, this one thinks. It will be some time before he can walk again."

I nod, standing. "Will you keep him here? I have business in the city before."

"This one will take care of him," she croaks, then smiles genuinely at me, gesturing for me to go to the city.

I smile kindly at her and begin towards the gate, glaring at the guard who would not allow me in before. As I pass by, I snake my hand into his pocket and remove his coin purse.

That will teach him.

* * *

"This is skooma!"

The Jarl snatches the vial from my hand and brings it to her nose, taking a brief sniff before stoppering it and handing to her steward. I produce the remaining vials that I have stored in my bag and then step down from the Jarl's level, keeping my head low.

"Skooma, my Jarl? I...am unfamiliar with the term."

Ugh...I hate the charade of respect that I have to keep up for these people. It takes entirely too much effort. Even still, I fold my hands behind my back and regard the Jarl with the honor she apparently deserves. She rises and begins to pace.

"Skooma is the refined form of Moon Sugar, and is illegal in Skyrim. It was brought here first from Elsweyr, the Khajit homeland." She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. "The bandits probably got it from that damn caravan outside the city."

My temper boils. "It wasn't them!" I snap, then compose myself. "I just mean...I've spoken to them and they seem like good people, my Jarl. I do not think they provided the skooma."

She snorts. "Khajit are a wily race. It's entirely possible they lied to you."

I narrow my eyes at her slightly, my tone darker. "I am not easy to lie to."

She seems taken aback by my attitude and gapes at me for a brief moment, then blinks and turns away from me, towards a chest in the back of the room.

"In any case," she begins, reaching into the chest. "You have done my city a great service." She brings forward a very large coin purse and plops it into my hands. Gods, it's heavy.

"500 septims, for services rendered. Also, by my right as Jarl, I permit you now to purchase property in the city. Speak to my steward if you decid you'd like to stay."

I look at the purse in my hands, but a thought hits me. I don't want property here. I never stay in one place long enough to want a house anyway. Perhaps I can coerce her into a different reward instead.

"My Jarl, if I may?" I start, stowing the purse away in my knapsack before taking a knee before her. She sits on her throne and nods once at me.

"I do not plan on staying in Riften for long enough a time to justify owning property here. But...there is something that I would ask of you."

She nods. "Speak it then, elf."

I stand then, folding my hands behind my back. "I have an animal companion that is currently in the care of the Khajit caravan outside the city. If my Jarl permits it, I would like to be able to bring him into the city when I please, without scrutiny from the guards."

She laughs once, leaning forward. "A savage wolf, in my city? You are asking a lot."

I shake my head. "Truthfully, I am not ma'am. My people have always been excellent care takers of wild beasts. In fact, we take them as companions and partners in battle. I have gained this animal's trust and I am confident that it will not attack anyone without my order."

She looks at me and blinks a few times, her mouth pressing into a hard line. She then leans back in her chair and consults with her steward. I stand patiently but my blood pulses hard in my veins. I promised to take care of Neshoba and, as kind as the Khajit are, it's dangerous to trust anyone. People take advantage of you at every turn and if anyone used Neshoba to get to me, I'd never be able to forgive myself. He's been through enough.

"Alright, elf. I've made my decision." She clears her throat. "You may bring the beast into the city, but he can never be here without you. If there is one incident of attack, you will both be dismissed from the Riften permanently. Am I clear?"

"Yes, my Jarl." I bow my head low to her and inwardly cheer.

I am _good._

* * *

Neshoba glares at me when I return outside an hour later

_Why have you returned?_

I motion for the Khajit to step back as I approach and they do so, giving me the space I need to speak with the wolf. He growls at me as I bend beside him, distrust heavy in his gaze.

_You must trust me, little one. I did not bring you here to hurt you._

I take a look at his side and am astounded by how good it looks. The blood has all but stopped flowing and the gash looks considerably smaller. The female Khajit is preparing a bandage in her tent and I smile.

_You see? These people helped you. I did not decieve you._

He looks toward the caravan and his gaze softens. _...it hurt._

I scratch him behind his ear. _It was necessary to get you well again._

His breathing is slower now, his eyes soft when he looks at me. _I do trust you. Forgive my hostility._

I grin, scratching down his leg and the top of his paw. _There is nothing to forgive, little one._

The femals Khajit returns with her bandage and begins to wrap it around Neshoba's torso, tying it tightly. She clips the excess cloth off with her claws and then smiles at me.

"He should keep as still as he can for tonight but can walk again tomorrow."

I nod at her. "Good. The Jarl has given me permission to bring him into the city."

The caravan appears to be packing up as the woman and I are talking. I eye her curiously.

"It is time that we moved on. The people here do not trust us and will not do business with us. Funds are low and we must be heading north, to Windhelm."

I ponder for a moment, then reach into my knapsack, pulling out the coin purse from the Jarl. I hand it to her.

"This one is confused," she rasps, looking at me with wide eyes.

I smile. "Thank you for helping him."


	5. Chapter 5

Neshoba whines.

_It smells in here..._

I roll my eyes at him, but he is right. The Ratway leaves a lot to be desired, but I suppose that's expected. It is the sewage system for Riften, after all. As we trudge through tunnel after tunnel, in search of the Ragged Flagon, I recall my most recent conversation with Brynjolf. His smooth confidence coupled with his icy indifference makes him a difficult person to read. He told me all about the Thieves' Guild, about the Flagon and about the Ratway. He gave me vague directions on how to weave through these sewage tunnels and make it to the Flaggon, but I have forgotten them. Neshoba is a wonderful companion to have though. His heightened sense of smell makes things easier for me.

I look down into his topaz gaze and he sniffs the air. He starts down the corridor to our left, and I follow. Soon, we are fronted by three looters. They didn't see or hear us coming, thankfully. I pull on Neshoba's tail, beckoning him back. He obeys, hunching beside me in the dark.

The men are griping about riches and fortune to be found in the Ratway and I have to suppress a laugh. Riches, here? Please. See if you can make it into Mistveil Keep, then tell me about riches. I make another mental note to attempt to sneak into the Keep at a later date, apart from my Guild contracts once I make it in. I have every confidence in my abilities here. I haven't met a marksman yet that can out shoot me, or a thief that has stolen smoother than I have. Well...except Brynjolf.

I grin. What a _stud_ he is. Sure, he's a human but...those eyes. The crimson tresses on his head. That sweet, jagged scar on the side of his face. And his masculinity...it practically exudes from him! I shudder. I'm going to have to advance on him. It will be an interesting undertaking.

The looters finish their conversation and Neshoba lunges at them, using his dog-fighting skills to the maximum. He cripples two of the looters and kill the third, leaving me to clean up his mess. I pull the ebony dagger from my boot and slit both of their throats, leaving them in a puddle of their own blood. I check their pockets and find 37 septims and a silver ring. The ring should sell for a decent price.

Further and further we go into the Ratway, sloshing through Riften's filth. Eventually, we come upon a door marked with a strange symbol - a diamond surrounding a small, hollow circle. It is emblazoned upon the wood of the door and I take the handle, pushing the door open. It leads into a large, cistern room with a small tavern in the back. I grin. It's the Flagon.

"Well, color me impressed lass!" Brynjolf exclaims, drawing the attention of the rest of the folks in the tavern. "I never thought I'd see _you_ again."

I puff out my chest a bit and cross my arms. "Well here I am. What else do you have to throw at me?" I retort, grinning.

His doubt in my abilities only makes me want to prove him wrong. Perhaps he is trying to frighten me away with his negativity? It doesn't matter. I'll show him what I can do one way or the other.

Brynjolf chuckles a deep, throaty chuckle and my skin prickles. "So eager to prove your worth to me, eh?"

I raise an eyebrow. "You truly think yourself so important?"

His expression grows darker then, more...intimate. "You're here, aren't you?"

I swallow. He's got me there. I won't deny that a small part of me traveled through those skeever infested corridors so that I could see him again. His confidence draws me; I can't help myself. But it was only a small part. Minuscule, really. Practically nonexistent. I clear my throat and look away from him.

He hops up on a bar stool and crosses his arms over his chest. "Well Kyari. If you truly are as impressive as you think yourself to be, I do have a job for you." He pulls out a slip of paper from one of the dozens of pockets on his Guild armor, and hands it to me. "The people on this paper owe the Guild a great debt, but they've all decided not to pay. I want you to..._persuade_ them otherwise."

I move to take the paper, but his grip doesn't loosen. I tug again and he leans closer to me, his eyes smoldering. "No killin'. Got it?"

I nod once, chewing on my lower lip. _Control yourself, Kyari!_ He releases the paper and smirks, turning towards the bar and leaving me to it. He orders a bottle of Black-Briar mead and I turn, taking the hint, and move towards the exit. Neshoba looks up at me, his tongue wagging.

_You like him._

I roll my eyes at the wolf and he grunts once, padding off in front of me. Damn dog. How is it that they are so perceptive?

* * *

"T-that was an authentic Dwemer vase! I had it shipped here for 400 septims!"

I lean on the counter and stare into Bersi Honey-Hand's eyes. "Either you pay up, or I go hunting for other rare and expensive items to smash. Your choice."

He looks at me, then the shattered vase. He runs a hand through his hair and bends, grabbing a coin purse from beneath the counter, plopping it into my hands.

"It's all there - 100 septims. Now get out of my store," he grunts, pointing at the door.

I bow cordially, a grin on my face, and saunter out of the Pawned Prawn. Damn, that was easy. The crazed look on Bersi's face any time he looked at that stupid pot was a dead give away that it was important to him. And that woman, Helga? She was so doused in perfume and slathered with make-up that it was obvious she was devoted to Lady Dibella. Once I found that statue, it was simple. And finally, those Argonians at the Bee and Barb...part of me felt guilty threatening them. They _did_ give me a roof over my head. But I'm sure a little sweet talking will get me back in their good graces.

The trek back through the Ratway is so much simpler this time, now that I know where I'm going. A few turns, some long hallways and a lot of nose-pinching, and I'm back at the marked door. I burst through it, coin purses in hand, and saunter on over to the bar. I plop the purses beside Brynjolf's mug, startling him.

He quirks a brow at me. "Back already?"

I dust off my hands. "Impressed yet?"

He chuckles. "Hardly." He stands then, beckoning for me to follow.

He leads me through another archway and down a small hall, to a broom cupboard. "I think it's high time I show you what the Thieves' Guild is really all about." He winks at me and presses a hidden switch. Then, to my utmost surprise, the back of the cupboard shifts, revealing a hidden entrance. I follow him through the door to our left and into the Thieves' Guild hideout.

The room is massive, and there are _so _many people here! At least a dozen beds line the outer walls of this room alone, each with a personal belongings chest at the base. Not every bed is occupied, but there are...seven thieves in here at the moment. Most of them don't notice me or don't care to look. They are practicing archery, lock-picking and dagger work, or they're sitting at tables drinking and talking. The closer that I look, the more I realize that the room is dull. There are two run-down picnic tables at either side of the room and a few book shelves that hold moldy bread and old bottles of mead. The smell of mildew is heavy in the air and I also get a hint of animal droppings.

This place is a dump.

"Who is this Brynjolf? Another new recruit?"

I turn at the mention of my presence and am met by one of the grumpiest looking Nords I've ever seen. His hair is long, matted and dirty, face crinkled and frowning as he examines me from head to foot. And he stinks. Horribly.

"This is Kyari, Mercer. Found in her in the street with her hand in my pocket."

I frown at him. He makes me sound like some mediocre street-thug. I puff out my chest a little and put my hands on my hips.

"She _did_ retrieve these, though," he adds, holding out the three coin purses that I hunted down in the city. I grin.

Mercer takes them and grunts. "That supposed to impress me, elf?"

I grimace. What a buzz kill. This guy is going to take some sweet talking.

"I assure you, I'll be an asset to this team. Possibly the best that you have."

Brynjolf snorts and Mercer barks out a laugh. "Don't kid yourself, girl. Any one of these thieves could empty your pockets right now if I gave the order." He leans forward and grins darkly. "It's gonna take more than words to earn your place here."

I nod once, swallowing. Why does he make me so nervous? As soon as I saw him I got a dark, creeping chill running up my spine. I'll have to keep my eye on him, even if he _is _the Guild Master.

"And what the hell is that doing in my hideout?" he asks, pointing to Neshoba.

I blink. I had almost forgotten he was here, he's so quiet. Neshoba pants quietly, his golden eyes staring up at Mercer with quiet curiosity. I smirk.

"He's with me. If you want me, Neshoba comes too."

"Neshoba?" Mercer mocks. "That one of your Bosmer words? Listen here, girl. We're the Thieves' Guild, and last time I checked, there ain't no animals in the word Thieves. He goes."

I shake my head. "No, he doesn't."

Mercer stares at me then, his eyes narrowing in a dark and foreboding glare. I stand my ground. This man has no power over me and I have no need to fear him. Neshoba growls quietly and I close my hand over his muzzle, silencing him.

"The Jarl has given me permission to have him in the city. Should I inform her that one of her _citizens_ is going against what she wants?" I ask, quirking an eyebrow.

Brynjolf looks at me, wide eyed, but I hold firm. My eyes bore into Mercer's and he stares back for a few moments, then looks away. I have won.

"Just keep him out of sight until you need him. And if I start finding piles of dog shit around here, you're both gone. Got it?"

I nod, smirking arrogantly.

"Right." He sniffs, beckoning Brynjolf closer. "Bryn, tell her about Goldenglow. Get her some armor and find her a bed." He looks back to me with a glare. "Welcome to the Thieves' Guild."

**_Kyari has weasled her way into the Thieves' Guild without a hitch. Brynjolf's flirtations aside, will she be able to keep a cool head and perform her duties to a T? Will Neshoba get himself into trouble? And what of Mercer, and why does Kyari get such a dark feeling from him? Check back soon for more!_**


	6. Chapter 6

"This'll be your bed, lass."

Brynjolf has led me to one of the corners of the Cistern room, near the lockpicking practice room. It's dark, musty and secluded - perfect. He's also permitted me to have a personal belongings chest, given me a set of Guild armor, and provided another ebony dagger, which I have in the sheath on my belt.

"So what's the scoop on Goldenglow?" I ask him, moving to light the torch by my bed. The fire gives his face a sexy, shadowed look and I have to look away before I start to drool.

He sits on my bed and sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I wouldn't send you in there if I had the choice, Kya."

Kya? I like the way it rolls off his tongue. I sit on the bed opposite him, listening intently. Apparently, Goldenglow is one of the suppliers to one of the Guild's largest clients but the owner, Aringoth, has ceased communication. The job is simple enough - break into Goldenglow, set three bee-hives on fire and steal everything in Aringoth's safe to send the Altmer a message. I don't see what Brynjolf is worried about.

"What's the big deal, Bryn? It seems like any fledgling thief could get in there and do this easily."

He turns to me, his mouth in a thin, hard line. "You seen Vex yet? Heard anythin' about her?"

I tilt my head at him. "I only just got here. How could I have met her yet?"

He shrugs. "She's one of our senior thieves. Gives out the missions, collects the pay and distributes it...the important stuff. She's also one of the best damn infiltrators we have here."

"So what?"

"She almost got herself killed tryin' to break into Goldenglow."

That stops me in my tracks. Wait, _what_? And they want _me_ to go in there? What are they trying to do, kill me off? I cross my arms over my chest and glare at Brynjolf.

"What's the idea, sending me in there then?"

He shakes his head. "I haven't any idea as to why Mercer would want you to go in there, lass. Like I said, if it was my choice, you wouldn't be. But the Guild Master has the final say. I can't do anythin' about it."  
I sigh and run my hand through my hair. "Any advice before I go?"

He nods, standing. "Yea, go and find Vex. She's seen first hand the kind of security that Aringoth's got for the place. See if she has any secrets she'd be willin' to divulge to you. And Kya?" He reaches over and grasps my arm tightly. "Don't get yourself killed."

_Whoa. _His voice just got deadly serious and his eyes are wide with worry. Why in Dibella's name would he care if I got hurt? He doesn't know me. I've only just arrived here and we have no sort of friendship other than casual flirtation. The idea of anything more than that is too much for my head to handle, so I nod stiffly and take a step out of his reach, adjusting my belt.

He clears his throat, standing as well. "She's over in the Flagon, if you wanna talk to her. When you're done with the job, come see me and give me the details."

* * *

"Before we begin I want to make two things perfectly clear."

I stop in my tracks, holding back Neshoba from lunging at Vex. Bitch, I haven't even said a word to you yet. Back off, or I'll sick my dog on you.

"One, I'm the best damn infiltrator this rathold of a Guild's got." She leans forward and glares at me. "So if you think you're here to replace me, you're dead wrong."

Gods, give me patience. I already want to stab this woman in the throat.

"And two, you follow my lead and do exactly as I say. No questions, no excuses."

I open my mouth to speak, but she cuts me off.

"Then we understand eachother. Good."

I smirk. "I have a question."

She glares at me, and I cheer inwardly. It has now become my personal mission to make this woman's life a living Oblivion. She nods for me to speak, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Who shoved a dagger up your ass this morning?"

She starts towards me, reaching for a dagger just as Mercer passes through the room, shooting a glare at the both of us. She sighs, annoyed, and leans back against the ale barrels.

"I don't want to waste a lot of time talking anything but business, elf. So shut your mouth and open those pointy ears of yours." She flips her hair out of her face. "You're here to ask me about Goldenglow, right?"

"Didn't you just tell me to shut my mouth?" I quip, sneering at her.

She balls up a fist. "Is that why you're here, or not?"

I nod at her.

"The guard's been tripled in the last two weeks. Nearly ten guards outside, at least eight inside. The hive yard is trapped to Oblivion and Aringoth's got locks on all the doors that were nearly impossible for me to pick. So you don't have much of a chance."

As much as I want to throw some snappy comment back at her, she's right. I'm not much of a lockpick. Pickpocketing, stealing and sweet-talking I can do. But hand me a lockpick and I'm useless.

"What do you suggest then?"

"Well..." she starts, then takes a swallow of her mead. "There's an old sewer tunnel that dumps into the lake on the northwest side of the island. That's how I slipped in. Hopefully, it's still unguarded."

"Is that it?" I ask her. "That's not much to go on."

She glares at me and shrugs a shoulder. "It's what we've got. That's why we need to get your ass _in_ there - we need more information."

I roll my eyes at her and turn, making my way towards the hidden exit in the graveyard. She wants a fight? I'll give her a fight. I'll prove to Brynjolf, Mercer..._all_ of them that I'm good enough to put Vex out of business and get this guild back on its feet.

* * *

Damn, Vex wasn't kidding. I've counted at least nine guards around the hive yard, patrolling the area better than the Riften watch. This isn't going to be easy. I've left Neshoba behind, hoping that with less feet on the ground, less noise will be made. I'm assuming that the Guild won't want me killing any of them, but I can't make any promises. With luck, I won't even be attacked in the first place.

I spot the hives around the lawn, and only one guard with a torch. I'm no magic user, so I have to find a way to get that torch off of him. An idea hits me and I draw the bow from my back, reaching for an arrow and nocking it, taking aim at the guard's hand. I close one eye and hold my breath, letting the arrow go...it knocks the torch from the guard's hand, but also puts everyone on alert. I have to move fast.

I duck behind the outer wall to the hive yard and sneak around to the side by the water, picking up a heavy log as I do. When the majority of the guards are on this side, I hurl the log into the water and cause the biggest splash I can manage, then dive out of sight and make my way back around the outer wall. To my delight, the guards have taken the bait and are wading into the water to find where the noise came from. I have one chance.

I slither into the yard and find the torch that I shot from the guard's hand, picking it up quickly and sneaking around to three behives, lighting them at the base and then putting the torch out in the dirt. Brynjolf was very specific - three hives only. I watch from the waterside as the smoke billows from the hives, and the guards begin to yell. Inwardly, I cheer. Part one, accomplished. Take that, Vex.

It takes another twenty minutes, but I manage to find the sewer entrance that she told me about. As soon as I open the door, I have to hold back a gag. It smells utterly foul, but I don't have much of a choice. I slide through the narrow entrance and wade through the filth, finding my way into Aringoth's estate.

The level that I am on has at least four patrole guards. I am sure there is an upper level, and the basement level below me. Brynjolf suggested that I try and get the key to the safe from Aringoth, but Vex's comment compels me to try and pick the lock. If I can't manage it, I'll go for the key.

The guards have a regular patrole pattern that is easy to maneuver around. I make my way through an iron gate without being seen and inch down the stairs. In the basement, there is a room with a bar and three more patrolemen seated, but they look drunk. Shouldn't be too hard to get past them. In fact, perhaps I can empty their pockets. I keep to the shadows of the wall and make my way around the room, behind the three of them. Luckily, they are seated at the bar and are all facing the same direction. I snake my hand into their pockets and remove three amethysts, at least 70 septims in coin purses, four lockpicks and a silver-garnet ring. These will fetch a handsome price. One of the men stirs with my hand still in his pocket and I freeze, withdrawing my fingers slowly.

"R'you tryin' to get in my pockets, Greigor?" he asks, turning to his left.

The second man looks completely outraged. "Me? How could'ya even say that?"

The first man stands and draws his sword, pointing it at Greigor. "I felt'cher fingers in my pocket, ya good fer nothin' scoundrel!"

A fight breaks out and I manage to make my way out of the room while the men are distracted. I grin to myself, marvelling in the luck I've had so far. Vex will be so pissed and the thought brings a chuckle to my throat.

A few more hallways and another room of drunken guards, and I'm in front of Aringoth's safe. I have six lockpicks on me. Six chances to rub my skill in Vex's face. I try one lockpick, and it breaks almost immediately. The second and third also break before I find the right position in the lock. The fourth almost opens the safe, but breaks at the last second. The fifth is the same story, and my hands begin to sweat as I pull out my last pick. I put it in the right spot, push my knife into the keyhole and turn slowly, holding my breath. I pass the spot where the fourth and fifth picks broke and the lock clicks. Yes! I swing the door open victoriously but stop, frowning.

What is this, a joke? There's hardly anything in the safe! Sure, there's a hefty looking coin purse but...where are the jewels and the weapons? Surely they can't be serious. There is a small slip of paper beside the coin purse and I pull it out, opening it and reading it. Aringoth sold Goldenglow? Mercer won't be happy about that. And what's that strange symbol at the bottom of the paper. Is it a mark of the Guild? Brynjolf will know, surely.

I sigh, picking myself up and making my way towards the exit. Gods, I hate being the bringer of bad news. Everyone wants to stab the messenger.

_**Kyari's luck seems to have granted her success in Goldenglow, but she must bring the grim news of the estate's sale to Brynjolf and the rest of the guild. Who is the client that wanted the heist in the first place? What will Mercer and Brynjolf do with the information? And what is the strange symbol on the paper that Kyari found? Come back soon for more!**_

**Thank you all for reading so far! This story is so fun to write and I'm glad that you're enjoying it. Follows, favorites and reviews are always welcommed! **


	7. Chapter 7

"What!?"

Mercer roars in frustration, crinkling the note and hurling it across the room. It rolls to a hault close to the edge of the pool of water and Brynjolf bends to pick it up as he enters the conversation.

"What's wrong now, Mercer?"he asks, sounding both amused and exasperated.

Mercer begins to pace, runing his hand through his matted grey hair. "Aringoth _sold_ Goldenglow, Bryn. That's what's wrong. Damnit!"

Brynjolf opens up the letter and reads it, his brow crinkling. I see his expression pause as he looks over the bottom of the page. "Oi, Mercer. What's this symbol, then?"

Mercer pauses in his angry tirade, snatching the paper away from Brynjolf and reading it again. "I don't fucking know..." he grumbles, running his finger over the surface.

Then, figuring that I have nothing else to offer, I begin towards the bar to get a drink from Vekel. Mercer and Brynjolf continue to brood and mull over the note, and I don't really care. All I want is to get paid. The sooner I get paid, the sooner I can earn everyone's trust, and the sooner I can get the hell out of here and on to the rest of Skyrim. This staying in one place thing is really not my style. Granted, it's only been a few days but with the other cities I've been to, I've been in and out within a week. As much as I want to rub my thieving prowess in Vex's face, and as much as I want to prove to Brynjolf that I'm better than what he thinks, I am not a stick around and make friends type of person. I work better alone.

"Black-Briar for ye, elf?" Vekel asks me as I sit down.

I nod to him, resting my elbows on the bar. He slides a bottle over to me with an interested gaze, but eventually leaves me alone. Soon, Mercer and Brynjolf leave as well and it's only Vekel, Dirge and I in the Flagon, but we all keep to ourselves. I stay there for about an hour before someone else enters. Another Bosmer whom I haven't met before. He sits down at the bar a few stools away from me and orders a bottle of Black-Briar as well. Soon, he turns to me with a playful smirk.

"I wasn't aware that Brynjolf had brought in another Bosmer recruit. It's good to see a sister face."

Gods, I'd missed that accent. I haven't seen another of my kind since I left Valenwood and I have noticed my own Bosmer tongue slipping into the guttural Nordic intonation. I turn to the man and smirk myself, one hand around my bottle. I extend the other in greeting to him.

To my utmost surprise, he takes the hand and kisses my fingertips. "Niruin," he says, grinning.

I chuckle. "Kyari." I pull my hand back and rest on the bar, eyeing him up. "A little too classy for this place, aren't you?"

He grins at that, and moves to the bar stool closest to me. "This place...meaning the Flagon, or the Guild?"

I shrug. "Both, I suppose. With a silver-tongue like that, surely you'd do better as a shopkeep or a salesman."

He takes a swig from his bottle and I catch myself gazing at his lips as he does so. _Damnit Kyari, control yourself!_ He licks his lips when he finishes and I look away before I drool on the bar.

He sighs a bit and rests his elbows on the bar, turning to the center of the room. "I haven't been called classy in many a year, Kyari. Not since I left home."

"Home...You mean Valenwood?"

He chuckles. "Is there any other place you'd call home?" I shake my head, and he continues. "Yes well, the last time I was called classy, it was followed by the word 'prig.' Said by my father of course."

I tilt my head at him and snicker once. "Your father?"

His eyes grow a bit distant and he nods. "Indeed. During one of the _many_ heated arguments he and I would engage in. See, he owned a winery back in Valenwood, which I worked at. As such, I was incredibly wealthy and adored by many people. I had more friends than I could keep track of, and was betrothed to a simply _beautiful_ woman."

I catch myself staring again as he continues his story. His smooth cockiness is entrancing and I take note that he is very much like me in that sense. We are both aware of our superiority and aren't afraid to flaunt it. I grin, putting my chin in my hand and listening as he goes on.

"As luxurious as that life surely seems," he starts, then leans in close to me. My breath catches. "...it is incredibly dull." He winks, then sits back up. "I grew increasingly bored as the years went on the wine flowed."

_Ah, Valenwood wine._ I remember it fondly. Much sweeter a taste than the swill they have in Skyrim. I've heard tales of a spiced wine up in Solitude that's gotten a lot of praise. Perhaps when I finish in Riften, I'll have to head there.

"I can't imagine how having that much coin could be dull."

He chuckles. "Well, the coin wasn't of course. Money can buy anything. The finest meats and cheeses, the grandest of parties and balls, and of course the most beautiful and sexual women around."

I blush at that, and turn away. Ah yes, the sexuality that is Valenwood's women. The Nords perceive us to be above such impulses. They'd be in for a treat if they ever crossed the Valenwood border. I chuckle nervously and sip at my mead.

"But party as much as you want and fuck as many girls as you can...it still gets boring. I craved excitement and action and adventure. Danger, if you will."

"Ah, so you're a thrill seeker?" I ask him, my voice a little lower than I expected.

He chuckles darkly and nods. "Yes. So I found myself with a group called the Silver Crescents. We were a gang, I suppose you could say. Not thieves, but not bandits either. I found the thrills there that the winery lacked."

I lift an eyebrow. "I can't imagine your father was too happy about that."

He raises a glass to my comment and takes a long swallow. "That's where the ultimatum came. I was to either leave the Silver Crescents and come back to the winery, or go to jail."

I widen my eyes at him. "_Those_ were your choices? What kind of a father was he?"

Niruin shrugs one shoulder. "One who was looking after his business. He had no patience for layabouts and guttersnipes, and that's what he assumed I was doing with the Crescents - neglecting my duty."

I take a swig of my mead. "So what did you do?"

"Well," he starts, then stretches. I take a moment to admire his lithe, Bosmer body and the fluency of his movements. I can really appreciate a man like this after being around nothing but Nords since I left the Vale. "I'd heard tale of the Thieves' Guild here, in Skyrim. So I sent out a few feelers and made a few discreet contacts. Eventually, Delvin contacted me."

"Who's Delvin?"

He cracks a smile. "I forget that you are new here. He's one of the senior thieves. Usually handles the sales of rare items or artifacts that we lesser thieves bring back. He also handles the broader jobs like pickpocketing and numbers jobs."

I nod like I know what he's talking about but I don't have any clue. He goes on anyway. This man does enjoy talking, but that's the only downfall I can find.

"Anyway, Delvin sent me a letter about the Guild along with a recruitment invitation. I left Valenwood the next morning."

I smile, finishing off my bottle of Black-Briar. "An interesting tale. Thank you, Niruin."

"Of course, milady. I am always delighted to talk about myself to beautiful women."

I feel a blush creep into my cheeks but I push it away. "Beautiful, is it?"

He rises from his bar stool and creeps a bit closer to me, standing a mere six inches away. He places his hand on the bar and leans in, close to my elongated ear.

"Gorgeous," he murmurs, pressing his lips right behind the curve of my ear.

I shudder, closing my eyes. When I open them, he is walking away with a mischievous smirk on his lips. It takes me a moment to regain my composure. That is a man who knows how to arouse a woman. His breath was velvety hot in my ear when he spoke, his tone deep and dark. He even _smelled_ captivating. And his lips were soft and deliciously delicate when he pressed them to my skin. My cheeks blush. Of course...it could be that I haven't bedded a man in nearly six months. But even still, Niruin is a fine specimen of a Bosmer.

When I turn back to the bar, I see a quickly scrawled note written on a piece of tattered parchment.

_If you're looking for company, come to my room tonight._

Oh yes. This, I can do.

**_As things heat up between Kyari and Niruin, trouble is brewing in the Guild. Money is tight as it is, and now Goldenglow has been sold. What will Mercer and Brynjolf do about the sale? Will Kyari and Niruin's relationship heat up even more? Come back soon for more!_**

**A very fun chapter to write. :) I am delighted to know that people are enjoying the story! Favorites, follows and reviews are always welcomed and appreciated!  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**I was very tempted to wait until I hit 1000 views to post this chapter, but the more I wrote, the more I wanted to post. It is short, but it's fun. Hopefully the steamy bits in the next chapter will make up for it! Enjoy.**

* * *

_ Mmm...Niruin in bed..._

Since he left me that note, that's the only thing that's been on my mind. I feel like such a child, lusting after him the way I am but his cool, confident sensuality stuck with me. I will undoubtedly pay him a visit tonight. In fact...how late is it? I plop a few coins down on the bar for Vekel and stand, stretching out my legs. Perhaps he went back to his room and is waiting for me? The idea is tantalizing and I grin, making my way into the hideout.

I must have been at the bar for a while after Niruin left...there's hardly anyone here. I look up at the gate that seperates us from the city above and the sky is darkening. My stomach jumps and I feel a tug in my groin at the thought of a lithe, Bosmer body waiting for me. I shudder.

"Hey there, lass, you alright?"

I jump. _Shit. _I can't let Brynjolf near me when I'm in this state of mind. I'd end up saying something I might regret. I keep walking like I don't hear him.

"Kya! Hold up a second."

_Ah damnit..._

He catches up with me and puts his hand on my shoulder. I feel the heat from his hand sink straight through my armor to my skin and I hold back another deep, down-my-spine shudder. I smile warmly at him despite my racing heartbeat.

"Everythin' alright? You seem tense," he asks, smirking at me. I shrug a shoulder nonchalantly. _Oh, if you only knew, Bryn._

He looks around the hideout and then back to me. "Listen lass, I just wanted to say well done on the Goldenglow job. Mercer's not one for niceities but I know that Vex almost had a cow when she heard about it." He chuckles and the sound resonates through the room. I bite my lip.

"Maybe I'll have to go speak with her."

He raises an eyebrow at me, smirking. "You two have got it out for eachother already, eh?"

I cross my arms over my chest. "She thinks she's better than me and she's wrong. I'm not going to sit around like a doormat and let her walk all over me. That's not my style."

Brynjolf leans closer to me, his crimson hair falling from behind his shoulder. "I'm gettin' that impression." He winks once, sending a tingle down my spine. "Still, I wouldn't go flauntin' your skill _too_ much. People might take offense to it."

I snort. "Let them. I've taken down worse than the rabble around here anyway."

His eyebrow creases and he crosses his arms over his chest. "Rabble, hm?"

I stop. Shit, did I offend him? I look away from his gaze and lick my lips. "I uh-"

"Well perhaps you'd like to go blade-to-blade with me somtime, eh?"

My eyes widen. "What?"

He shrugs. "If you think you're so good, why not put your skills to the test? Spar with me."

I look around. "Right now?"

He nods, pulling a dwarven dagger from his belt and chuckling. "If you think you can handle it."

I look around again, in disbelief. Is he serious? He wants to fight me, here? Test my steel, right here in the open? Is that..._allowed _in here? Surely if it wasn't...he wouldn't have suggested it. I feel a grin spread over my cheeks. This should be interesting.

I pull the ebony dagger from both my boot, and my belt and take one in each hand, spinning them around my fingers. He moves to the center of the room, on the stone bridge above the water. I follow, and take a defensive stance.

"Now we aren't fightin' to kill-"

I dive at him, daggers flying, and aim for his abdomen. He jumps out of the way and laughs, spinning his own dagger once before crouching. I grin.

"You talk too much."

He shrugs a shoulder. "Apparently."

Then, we circle. He sizes me up and I take in his stature as well, not missing the chance to admire his handsome, Nord physique. _I bet he really knows how to fuck a girl..._ I shake my head. No, I can't think about that right now. Weak points. I need to analyze his weak points. Knees, of course. Nords are burly and top heavy. If I can take him out at the knees, I'll have my victory.

He lunges at me, suddenly, pointing his dagger at my shoulder. I feel it graze my armor before I step out of the way and swipe his blade away with mine, swinging my leg towards his knee. It connects, but not as hard as I'd hoped and he grunts. He swings around and shoves me, pushing me a few feet away. I spin and crouch, placing a hand on the ground for balance. When I look up, he's already coming at me again, with his fist and his dagger. I stand fast and backflip off of the bridge, landing in the water. It takes me a moment to get my balance and he grins down at me, acting as though he were victorious. Oh, how little he knows.

I rip the bow from my back and draw an arrow, pulling back and firing at his knee. It connects, biting into his flesh and he cries out, falling to the other knee and clutching his injury. I fault onto the bridge and push him to his back, straddling him, and push my dagger to his throat. He holds up his hands in defense.

"Hold up, hold up...I concede! I-fuck!" He clutches his knee, which is bleeding heavily.

I take a moment to revel in my victory before I rip the arrow out of his knee and reach for my pack. He cries out in pain and clutches his leg. He glares daggers at me, his eyes wide with anger.

"Lie back, Bryn."

"You fuckin' _shot_ me, Kya!"

"Lie back." I plant my hand on his shoulder and push him onto his back, ripping open the armor around his injury. The wound is small, but deep. I pull a vial out of my pack from Valenwood and unstopper it, pouring its contents over the wound. He writhes for a moment but, as the mixture seeps into the wound, he relaxes. I massage his entire knee, from top to bottom, waiting for the wound to close.

"What is that?" he asks, craning his neck to see.

"Shh, just wait." I continue to massage him, watching the wound close and the skin knit back together.

His eyes widen. "Kyari, tell me what that is."

I put the vial back into my pack and cover up his knee. "It's a special potion from Valenwood."

He sits up. "What is it, some kind of miracle-healer?"

I shake my head. "No, just a mixture of specific Valenwood herbs and spices, mixed with a bit of sap from the trees my people live in, and no small amount of magic. This one is tailored specifically for puncture wounds."

He quirks a disbelieving brow at me, then inspects his leg. His mouth falls open when he sees that the wound is completely healed, from the surface to the muscle beneath. He cracks a smile.

"Please, don't tell anyone about this, Bryn."

He looks at me. "Why? This could help so many of our people with injuries and-"

I reach out and take his hand. "Please."

He stops, inspecting my eyes. His gaze is piercing and I feel a tug in my belly. "Alright, lass. If it's that imporant to you."

I smile, squeezing his hand once before releasing. I might be a cold hearted, cocky Bosmer bitch, but I won't betray my people's secrets to a man I barely know, an organization I've barely even come into. Maybe after some time here...I can begin to brew some of this for the thieves here. But not now. There's no guerentee that I'll even stay.

Brynjolf rises then, dusting off his backside. "Well fought, lass. I guess you do have a bit of skill to back up all your barking."

I chuckle, sheating my bow and both of my daggers. "I'm glad you think so. I'd hate to have to shoot the other knee."

He rolls his eyes and chuckles, crossing the bridge and leaving me alone without another word. I smile at him as he walks away, my chest aching. Why is my chest aching? I shake the feelings away and ascend the stairs out of the water, wringing out my clothes. Why do I want so strongly to prove myself to him? I barely know him, and I haven't even had enough time to form an opinion about him other than wanting to get him into bed. Yet...every time I see him, something burns in my veins. He looks passively at me, like I don't matter. Like I'm some riff-raff nobody who couldn't rub two septims together. I can't have that. He needs to know how good I am. Hopefully today gave him a taste of that.

I finish squeezing the murky water from my trousers and chuckle. Wet pants. All the more reason for Niruin to take them off of me.

_**Brynjolf has tasted of Kyari's mettle, and come away unscathed...after a secret concoction from the Vale. Kyari's desire to prove herself to him and her desire to sleep with him continue to war inside of her. Lies, darkness and back-stabbing are coming. Who is behind it all? Will it be enough to keep Kyari around for the long haul? Come back soon for more!**_


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